


reach out and touch faith

by icedmachinery, icemachine



Category: Doom Patrol (TV)
Genre: Declarations Of Love, Other, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Touch-Starved, Trans Male Character, keeg bovo uses they/them pronouns
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-02 03:42:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,460
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23658547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icedmachinery/pseuds/icedmachinery, https://archiveofourown.org/users/icemachine/pseuds/icemachine
Summary: "I want to make you feel good,” he tells them. “At peace. Like you make me feel.”“Lie down,” Keeg says, pushing his chest slightly, and Flex falls into it, lets his body be positioned freely, lets himself be pressed into the bed by Keeg’s heavy weightlessness.Flex gazes at them.They look angelic.
Relationships: Keeg Bovo/Flex Mentallo
Comments: 1
Kudos: 27





	reach out and touch faith

**Author's Note:**

> *copes with gender identity issues and dysphoria by writing this*

Flex has not been touched like this in sixty years.

The only touch he can remember now, the only vivid memory still possible to retrieve, is the touch of violence—-the torturous spark of the electric machines used to harm him, to scare him, to keep him compliant. The memories of softer touch were drained from him viciously; the concept of love like a ghost, decaying in his arms.

He knows he is safe, with Keeg, knows that they would never hurt him, but still the association flickers in Flex’s mind; _the electrical torture, the electrical composition of Keeg’s form._ They love him. He loves them. Keeg is eternally gentle - only towards him - because they know the trauma that has been buried, embedded, injected into the turbulent waters of Flex’s psyche. Yet Flex still gasps, when their hand moves to the side of Flex’s neck, crackling like the warmth inside of him, the heat growing in his stomach. Fear - pleasure - fear. Fear - pleasure - fear.

“Are you okay?” they ask, retracting their limb. “Flex?”

“I just…”

“I’m sorry,” they say, like Flex is transparent, “if I’m bringing up bad memories. I… cannot control the electrical part of my form just yet.”

Flex brings their hand up to his mouth, kisses it sweetly. “No, my love, you don’t have to. It does remind me of that, sometimes, but… then I look at you and I remember I’m safe.”

“I’m glad,” they respond, closing the space between their bodies; previously, Keeg had been floating above him slightly, cautious to touch, but now they rest in his lap, straddling him, always soft despite their demeanor, always radiating gentleness. To him, gentle only to him, a promise. “I want to make you feel safe.”

_I love you,_ Flex thinks; it is the only galactic truth. The only thing he truly believes in - the only confidence he has now - is that he is wholly and purely in love with Keeg Bovo. His love for Keeg is his freedom, is his path to healing, is every atom in the composition of the universe, _amen._

“And _I_ want to make you feel good,” he tells them. “At peace. Like you make me feel.”

“Lie down,” Keeg says, pushing his chest slightly, and Flex falls into it, lets his body be positioned freely, lets himself be pressed into the bed by Keeg’s heavy weightlessness. 

Flex gazes at them.

They look angelic. As if feathered, virtuous wings could sprout from their back at any moment, and fly him into heaven. Keeg runs a hand down his chest and stomach, rests it at the waistband of his shorts, leans over to kiss him.

It isn’t technically kissing, in a reciprocated fashion; Keeg has no lips. Instead it is Flex pressing his lips against Keeg’s frame—-their face, their neck, their shoulders—kissing every part of their body, unrelenting worship. But—-

“Wait,” Flex says, pulling away for a moment. “I feel so stupid. I’ve never asked… can you even feel any of this?”

“I can,” Keeg responds, nodding. “I feel sensation in a different way than humans do. It’s more intense, visceral.” What sounds like a heavy breath escapes them; it isn’t a breath, they don’t have lungs, but it sounds—-it sounds like a moan, followed by a chuckle. “While you feel things localized to whatever part of your body is being touched, I feel pleasure everywhere. My essence. In my entire - hm - _soul_ , as you might say.”

“So… you like it, then?”

“I love it.” They tug at his shorts, playfully, before picking up his left hand and placing it around their waist. “You make me feel so good, Flex. I wish you could feel things like I can.”

“Well,” Flex says, without thinking, “we could—”

He stops himself. He’s not brave enough to ask for it. Not yet.

“Hmm?”

“Nothing.”

“Flex, tell me what you want. I’ll give you whatever you need.”

“I—-”

“Oh,” Keeg interrupts. “You want me to - to fuck you, is that it?”

Hearing their deep, monstrous voice saying _you want me to fuck you_ makes Flex feel like melting, drains his lungs of air. “Yes,” he admits. “Only if you want to.”

“Of course I want to,” they tell him. “But I don’t know how.”

“Huh? You don’t know how?”

“I tried to stay away from the sexual memories in Larry Trainor’s mind,” they tell him. “To keep us both comfortable. Keep in mind that I am not experienced with humanity even outside of sexuality. I know - a few things, but you’ll have to guide me.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. And, I - I want to see how it feels.”

Keeg stays on top of him, motionless, waiting for instruction, as Flex begins to panic. Keeg would never judge him for being transgender - they are genderless and alien, they cannot even parse human gender - but the anxiety still begins to froth within him. What if they—-

“Flex,” they say, interrupting his thought process. “You don’t have to be scared. We don’t have to do it if you’re not ready.”

“I’m ready. I am. I’m… just… nervous.”

“Tell me why.”

“Well, what I have… um… down there…” (he feels so ridiculous, so _stupid,_ so—) “...doesn’t exactly match what most people picture when they think of men.”

“I don’t care about that at all. You are perfect to me.”

“I love you.”

“I love you too.”

It feels so natural.

Keeg reaches down, intending to remove Flex’s shorts, and slides them off carefully, slowly, when he closes his eyes and submits. He guides their hand, places two of their fingers against his clit. Keeg makes an inquisitive noise.

“Keep touching there,” he whispers; the mere contact is already incredibly overwhelming, he hasn’t been touched like this in _so long._ “In a circular motion.”

They continue to rub against him, for - _God -_ so long - _God -_ and the current that their touch carries no longer reminds him of the torture; instead only reminding him of love, of soaring.

“And now…?”

Flex’s eyes flutter open. He touches their hand again, places it lower, against his entrance. They seem to understand what he means, but their first attempt involves three fingers.

“Whoa,” he says, stilling them. “Just one for now. We’ll have to work up to that.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Flex says, grabbing their wrist and moving it back, forth, showing them exactly how to move. It’s captivating. They’re looking at his chest - rising and falling quickly - and they’re looking at their movement, studying quickly, learning quickly. It’s _captivating._ He’s _very_ wet, now, so he taps Keeg’s ring finger, and they immediately thrust it in, gentle but rough—-

“ _Jesus, f—”_

—- _oh._ They’ve found the spot that makes him tremble and darken, and - fuck - they seem to be enjoying the sight of Flex quickly losing all control. They slowly drum against it, and with their other hand, they stroke Flex’s cheek, always so gentle.

“Ah—-you’re—-so good.”

“ _You’re_ good,” Keeg says, low. “You’re beautiful. Always, but… you look so good like this.”

“Stop.” It’s abrupt, and it sounds harsh. They stiffen. “I mean… I’m too close… I—-I want to feel you. All of you.”

“I understand.”

“But, wait—-you—-don’t have—-I forgot—-”

“I can manipulate my shape,” they explain. “I wasn’t always humanoid. I adopted this form when I merged with him. In reality, I simply look like an abstract cloud of energy.” A faint laugh. “Relax.”

Flex closes his eyes, obeys in relaxation, feels Keeg move his legs apart, and when something thick and crackling pushes into him gently, he lets out a howling moan that they mimic seconds later.

“Fuck,” they whisper, “I didn’t know it could feel like — _this._ ”

“Keep going,” he instructs. “Faster, _please._ ”

They follow his words, increasing the pace of their thrusts, and his vision goes white - galactic - he can see other worlds with Keeg inside of him, and they’re beautiful, everything is _beautiful_ and _elegant_ and all of his trauma melts and fades, only Keeg now, only them, only the wholeness and entirety of love.

They place their hands on his shoulders, steadying their position.

“Are you doing okay?”

“It is—-it’s—-it’s so much.”

“Do you need to stop?”

“No,” they tell him, stern. “I love you.”

And with those words — _I love you —_ the pleasure becomes overwhelming, shooting through his body, celestial; when he comes it feels like _minutes,_ exhausting him. It does not take long for Keeg to follow; their very first time experiencing pleasure, their very first time being shown love - complete devotion - love.

Keeg pulls out of him. Lies down, on their back, next to him. It’s unnecessary, when they can float, but the _closeness_ is essential.

“Thank you."

“For what?” Flex manages, breath heavy. 

“For everything.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> yeah.  
> kudos+comment appreciated.  
> yeah.


End file.
